Last Wednesday night, my mother called to inform me that one of our cats was hyperventilating. I was confused and decided to go to their house to check on the situation. After arriving there, I saw how weird the cat's breathing was and made the executive decision to take him to the vet.
Once my father and I arrived at the vet with our cat, he was open mouth breathing... a terrible sign. The nurses took him back immediately to get him on oxygen and before I knew it, I was being told that it would be in our best interest to put the cat down.
Our cat, just about four years old, was dying. I wasn't ready for this. I had started to prepare myself for my other two cats who are older and sickly, but I was blindsided by this. Buru, the baby of the house, was dying and there was nothing we could do about it.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't stop crying. I had no idea that I would be so upset about losing our cat, the asshole of the house, but at that point all the bad memories were wiped away. All I could think about were the good times and how much of a part of the family he had become over the last few years. This great big goofball of a cat had stolen a piece of my heart and I won't ever be getting it back.
The days thereafter were rough. I cried, a lot, and as I said before, I've had trouble remembering what happened which day. I've tried to refocus, but it's been tough.
This entire weekend, Thursday-Monday morning, was spent on duty, which made it even harder. I couldn't even drink my sadness away. Between movies, incidents, and even an early morning trip to Rowan University, I've been trying hard to keep busy.
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| Some awesome RAs and I at Rowan |
For the remainder of this week, I get to embark on a professional development journey at Penn State Main Campus. I've never been there before so it should be great. I'm incredibly excited for this adventure and hope that it will keep my mind away from the sadness I've been dealing with for the last week.
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